It's so essentially empty, such an attempt to create an atmosphere of averageness, that it's hard to actually notice, even if you stop all other activity and try to listen to it. I guess that's almost an achievement.

Like fast-moving clouds casting shadows against a hillside, the melody-loop shuddered with a sense of the sublime, the awful unknowable majesty of the world.

My son's just back from 3 months' travelling in Mexico. Seems everyone and everything is chingado sooner or later!

Funny enough, my Mexican friends rarely say "chingado" or similar variations of the word. But we do tease them with it nevertheless, much like we do the Spanish with "gilipollas" (and they us with "che boludo").